


Static

by Saral_Hylor



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for  - The Losers - any - Sleeping Beauty</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cougars_catnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cougars_catnip/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/974776) by [Cougars_catnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cougars_catnip/pseuds/Cougars_catnip). 



> Prompt by peaceful_sands on fic_promptly
> 
>  
> 
> This was initially just a prompt fill, but then became heavily inspired by Cougar_catnip's piece Silence. It's not a direct companion piece, and there are a few little differences, but a lot of this was inspired by that work.

It isn’t really dark, more a hazy grey, like static. But that is all he can see, and that is more scary than pitch black. 

Everything hurts, but he doesn’t even feel like he has a body anymore. He’s lost, just sort of swimming through all that grey, and he feels so alone. All he wants is for someone to be here with him. 

He can hear them now, talking, whispering so far away, out of sight, out of reach, but he knows they’re talking to him. He wants to answer, to tell them that he’s right here and can hear everything they’re saying, so shut up with the embarrassing stuff Jess, but you can’t talk when you don’t have a mouth. 

There’s light, and he wants to reach for it, but the pain is building, it’s tearing him apart, burning him up, and then a surge of calm goes through him, dampening down the pain and the light is fading as the grey consumes him again. 

There’s panic to the edge of a voice that’s so familiar but he can barely remember the last time that he heard it. He wants to reach out and let the person know he’s alright, but he can’t even see them, and they sound so far away. And how can he reach them if he doesn’t even know where they were? And then the static is back, white noise so loud he can’t hear anything else. 

Somewhere distant and out of reach there’s beeping, consistent and irritating, and he wishes that it’d just shut up rather than bouncing around and causing ripples in all the static. The pain gets worse and he wants to cry out, to protest, to make someone notice that he’s there and he’s in pain and will someone just do something about it already! 

Someone is there, talking to him, telling him to come back, to stop scaring them, and all he wants to do is reassure them that he’s been here the whole time, why can’t they just look through all the grey and find him? 

The light is back, and this time he really tries to reach for it, pushing through the static, because he’s had enough of this, and it doesn’t matter how much it hurts, he wants out of all of this nothing, it’s boring and lonely and frightening, and he wants to escape. 

The pain is right there, coursing through his body and making him splutter for breath. Lungs, burning from the intake of oxygen and for a moment he wants to slip back into the semi-comfort of all the static, let that white noise envelope him in its calming embrace, so that beeping and the pain will just stop. But the static is gone, and all he can hear is breathing and beeping, and there are forces grounding him in his body again, and he might admit to missing it if it isn’t feeling so much pain right now. Images flash and stutter before his eyes, shutter quick captures of white, light, too bright, and silhouetted fuzzy outlines of people. 

Something is pressed gently against his face, behind his ears and over his nose, and suddenly those fuzzy outlines form actual people, even though everything is still far too bright. Jess is there, leaning too far over his bed, face blotchy and he wants to tell her that she should give up crying because it makes her ugly, but there’s a smile stretching across her face, and she’s that perfect big sister of his again. There’s tiny hands scrabbling for one of his, and Beth’s face appears next to her mother’s, and hell, did they look that similar last time he saw them? 

"Hey, welcome back Sleeping Beauty." Jess’ voice crackles and pops with emotion, and her eyes are all glassy again, and he wants to lift his hand to wipe away her tears, because it’s hard to see his strong big sister looking so scared, even masked over with all that relief. 

But his hand won’t shift, there’s something weighing it down, and it takes far too much effort to turn his head, but when he does, there’s Cougar, sitting beside the bed, hand clamped tight around his, and he’s never seen the sniper, look at the same time, so pale, scared and tired, and yet so happy. He wants to ask Cougar why he’s been crying too, wants to ask who died, and why everyone is making such a fuss. But his mouth doesn’t work, his tongue is too thick and heavy, and suddenly there is something cold and solid, turning cool and wet, against it, and Cougar’s fingers are lingering against his lips, and maybe he doesn’t really need to ask those questions after all.


End file.
